Ivy and Ted are watching Shaun the Sheep from their nests on the lounge. They have established very specific territory and marked the boundary with a laundry basket. At this moment there are no disputes. George is strapped into a complicated, colourful baby jail and practising hersnorting noises. Keith is sleeping like the zombie dead, and I am trying to power through some admin (answer long-overdue emails, enrol for next terms yoga, pay the vege box) before he emerges, I have a bath and we lock the computers in the shed so we can enjoy some overdue together time.
Man, it's been a week.
My back (bulging disc, pinched nerve, thanks for caring) is on the upswing, which is to say that now, when I am struck with a sudden pain, it is more like I am on the prison lunch line and a smelly lifer has poked me with his sharp, pointy fingernail, rather than shivved me with a sharpened toothbrush. Major improvement.
I can lift the baby, change nappies, work around the house and drive the car, even if I must do them with a bit of a Thunderbird style stiff-backed waddle. A few days ago I couldn't do any of those things, and it was hard to stem my internal panic about how to manage life if it didn't resolve. Keith was having to take a lot of time off work to help and then making up his hours at night. Thank God for my wonderful Mum. Hard to imagine what I would have done without her this week.
Today, the sun is shining, we are all well at once (huzzah!) and I am looking forward to addressing, one by one, all the jobs that have been left untackled, and then getting to a few of the projects I've been dying to tackle lately: new bread recipes, some soap-making, stripping and painting the dresser on the deck that has been waiting my attention for weeks.
Happy weekending, my friends.